


The Smaller Battles

by lilidelafield



Series: Katiya [8]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8222167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilidelafield/pseuds/lilidelafield
Summary: Whilst Napoleon overhears unkind gossip in the UNCLE commissary about his partner, Illya receives a dressing down from his daughter Katiya's teacher. What is wrong?
Can Napoleon reign in his anger long enough to be able to help?





	

          “Hey, did you know that our icy Russian is a dad now? He’s officially adopted his niece!”

          “Ooh, I pity the poor kid then. He never cracks a smile. What kind of a life is she likely to have with him?”

          “Hang on, Iceman’s a section two. I thought they weren’t allowed to have kids?”

          “He’s farmed the kid out to some family somewhere through the week, and he goes to see her at weekends.”

          “Another Sunday father type then? That would figure.”

          “If he could only crack a smile now and again, he would be more human. Fancy having a Russian icicle for a father!”

Napoleon Solo had heard enough. He had dated each of these women in the past, and had had a pleasant time with them, but for them to gossip about his partner like that, without even knowing the full facts filled him with fury! He got up from his seat, hidden from view and stood, looming over them, just long enough that they could see the anger on his face. They fell silent at once. None of them had known that Solo was within earshot. It took a great deal to make Napoleon angry. When he finally did speak, his voice was calm, controlled and even.

          “Miss Merryweather, I will have to cancel our date for this Friday. Something has come up.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his face red with suppressed anger. The women stared at each other, aghast. They all knew that from then on, they would be struck off Napoleon’s dating list for good. Megan Merryweather felt her cheeks burning.  Solo had cancelled his date with her because she had been with those talking about his partner. How would she ever live this down? All the women in her department had been envious of her for her date this week, and now she would have to tell them…Next time, she told herself, she would be strong enough to get up and walk away…at least, she _hoped_ she would…

Napoleon made his way to the office he shared with his partner. He was debating whether or not to tell Illya about the gossiping. What good would it do if he did? Well, they likely have enough time for talk, judging by the size of the pile of paperwork on both their desks. Illya was almost always up to date with his paperwork, but the fact was that ever since Katiya had come into his life, he had started falling behind with it. Even mister Waverly was beginning to run out of patience. Likely, then, Illya would be busy right now using their scant free time to play catch-up.

When he entered the room however, he found himself grinning. Illya was sitting with a tall pile of paperwork in front of him, with his chin in his hands, his elbows on the table. He was staring into the distance.

          “Illya?”

There was no response from the Russian.

          “Illya!?” slightly louder, but still no response. Napoleon took a deep breath and tried again in a shout.

          “Illya!!”

Illya jumped and looked round.

          “What?”

          “Don’t you think you had better make a start on your paperwork?”

          “Hmmm.” Illya replied absently. “Napoleon, I never thought I would get used to being a father, and yet now I can’t imagine being without my little Katiya.”

          “You’ve only had each other for a little over a month Illya. And if you don’t get that lot done, Waverly will be taking drastic action.”

          “But I want to get away to visit my daughter.”

Napoleon nodded slowly.

          “I know my friend, and I am really glad you are no longer alone, but you can’t neglect your work.”

          “Why don’t you do it Napoleon? I’ve done yours often enough?”

Napoleon looked at the size of his own pile. Tall as Illya’s was, it was dwarfed by his own. In truth, he had been hoping to foist his own paperwork onto Illya until he saw how far behind Illya had become. He considered he had done Illya a kindness by deciding to do his own paperwork for once, and he had no desire to take on his partner’s as well. He looked more carefully at Illya.

Illya had always been a stickler for getting everything done properly, but to be fair, he was still learning how to juggle the responsibility of fatherhood with his duties to UNCLE. Right now though, it was as though he had something on his mind. Napoleon cursed himself for not having noticed before. What kind of a partner was he anyway?

          “Illya, is there something wrong? You do look worried…”

Illya shrugged.

          “You’ve not heard then?”

Napoleon frowned.

          “If it’s anything to do with your daughter, then why would they tell me? You’re her father.”

Illya was contrite.

          “No, Napoleon, I’m sorry. I did not mean to suggest anything. It’s just that…”

          “Just that what?”

Illya sighed.

          “I should have told you before, but I forgot. Katiya’s teacher wants me to come to see her before school tomorrow. She can’t see me tonight as she has some staff meeting or something to go to. Something has obviously happened, and I am worried…what could the problem be?”

Napoleon smiled suddenly.

          “Oh, Illya! The joys of being a parent.”

Illya smiled wanly.

          “My arrangement with your family is that when I am away on a mission, they will assume all the rights of guardianship. When I am at home, every matter concerning a parent or a guardian they will speak to me…”

          “And you’re worried that Katiya might be in trouble or something? There are many reasons why a teacher might want to speak to a parent without it having to be a negative thing. Look, I’ll do your stuff for you _this_ time. Hand it over. You get off. Let me know tomorrow how things go huh?”

          “Thank you my friend.” Illya left, still looking slightly worried, but clearly with a weight off his shoulders. Napoleon sighed at all work he now had to do before he could go home. All the while, at the back of his mind, like a tickle was the persistent feeling of anger in Illya’s behalf against the gossipy women from the filing department. If they could only see Illya at times like this, they would have to drastically re-think their opinion of the Russian agent.

It was late before Napoleon had finished all his paperwork, Illya’s too, and he sighed as he headed for the UNCLE garage.

Rather than park his car in the street out front, this morning he    had taken it around the block and parked it in his proper space. He was half-way home when he changed his mind, and decided that he would head instead to his brother’s place. It was gone nine thirty at night before he arrived at his brother Winston’s home, and for the first time he realized how late it actually was. However, he had picked up a couple of cans of beer and a couple of bottles of vodka, just in case, and with those in his arms, he knocked on the door. Winston’s wife Cecily opened it and shook her head, tutting in disapproval.

          “Don’t you men ever go to bed, Napoleon? Come on. You’ll find them in the study. Don’t blame me if you have trouble waking up in the morning. Goodnight!”

She closed the door behind him and took herself off upstairs to bed. Napoleon knocked on the closed door of the study. It was opened, and Napoleon found himself almost touching noses with his brother. He jerked back and grinned.

          “Run out of booze yet, brother?”

          “Yay!” Winston chirruped, seizing the bag from Napoleon and cracking open a can of beer. Napoleon stepped in the room and found it littered with empty cans and bottles. Illya was sitting in the midst of the chaos, his brow furrowed and eyebrows drawn together. Winston was clearly drunk. Illya just as clearly was not.

Napoleon had always marveled at the amount of vodka Illya could put away without getting even the tiniest bit tipsy, whereas even a single glass of wine on an empty stomach had him giggling like a girl. Napoleon grabbed a can of beer and another bottle and stepped over to join his partner. Winston, slightly red faced gestured at the somber Russian with his half empty beer can.

          “I jush can’ ge’ ‘im to shmile, ya know Leo, ‘e jush won’ shmile for me!”

          “Don’t worry Wint, why don’t you finish that beer and then get to bed? Ce’s already gone up. I’ll get Illya home safely.”

          “I’m staying here.” Illya replied stoutly. Napoleon shook his head and handed the bottle of vodka to his friend.

          “No, you’re going home. Drink that first, then get your shoes on.”

          “No Napoleon, I am staying here tonight! My daughter needs me.”

          “Of course she does, but so does UNCLE, and right now they have priority.”

Illya glared at Napoleon, put the bottle down on the coffee table, leaned back in his seat and folded his arms.

          “I’m staying here.”

Napoleon took a swig of his drink and stared at his partner in exasperation. He had not come here for this, but something at the back of his mind had told him that this was where his partner would be. His own day had already been long enough and he really was too tired to start a battle with his partner. Whatever had happened at Katiya’s school had clearly thrown the Russian off-balance. The study door clicked as Winston finished his beer and tottered off to bed. They watched him go, then Napoleon got up and closed the door softly behind his brother. He turned back to Illya.

          “What has happened, my friend?”

Illya had expected Napoleon to start getting insistent, and once again the American had surprised him by his sensitivity. The angry retort that had been on the edge of his tongue died, and was replaced, to Illya’s own shock, with a slight sob.

The effect on Napoleon was like an electric shock.

          “What’s happened Illya?”

          “Katiya has been hurt.”

          “What? How? Is she all right?”

          “She’s sore. A fair bit of nasty bruising on her tummy. I telephoned Katiya’s teacher, Alice Borrowdale to ask her about the bruising and about the meeting in the morning. She never let me tell her anything about Katiya. As soon as I told her who I was, she went into a tirade and told me that my daughter was an ill-brought-up, impolite, violent little upstart who was too big for her boots. She says that she found Katiya and a bigger girl fighting in the playground. The other girl, a twelve-year old by the way, had a black eye. Naturally, the teacher blamed Katiya for it and she has suspended her for two days in order to teach her that polite little girls don’t fight. The other girl got a pat on the head and a lollipop.”

Napoleon’s eyes opened wide.

          “Didn’t the other kids say anything?”

Illya shook his head.

          “Polly told me the teacher never asked them anything. Polly tried to, and got herself a detention for being interfering. Do you know what rankles the most?”

          “Tell me.”

          “The last thing the teacher said to me before I hung up on her was that I should take my `brat’ and go back to Russia where I belong.”

Suddenly the fury that Napoleon had felt earlier in the day after the conversation he had overheard in the commissary erupted, and he pounded his fist against the coffee-table so hard, that it cracked under the impact. Illya stared in shock.

          “All right, suppose you now tell _me_ what’s bothering _you_?”

Controlling himself with an effort, Napoleon recounted to his friend the events of lunchtime, and how it had made him so angry he had immediately cancelled a date and scrubbed each of their names and numbers out of his little black book.

          “They don’t realise that you are worth fifty of them, Illya! Prejudiced, bigoted, racist…”

Napoleon stopped his rant with difficulty, and got to his feet.

          “Come on. We are getting Katiya out of bed and we three are going to visit that teacher tonight and tell her a few things.”

          “It’s too late for Katiya to be out of bed, Napoleon!”

          “Why? She apparently has no school in the morning. Besides, I am taking your daughter into headquarters tomorrow, to explain a few things to a few people. Tonight you are to come with me. Tomorrow, I will want you to stay out of the way until I call you.”

Illya was shocked. He had never, ever seen his partner quite this angry before. A determined Napoleon was a force to be reckoned with. An angry Napoleon was frightening enough. A very angry Napoleon was clearly unstoppable. He merely nodded meekly.

          “I’ll…I’ll go up and get her ready. Five minutes. You had better let your sister-in-law know what’s happening, or there will be ructions if they find her gone.”

Napoleon nodded.

          “I’ll take care of it.”

 

Alice Borrowdale sat back in her favourite armchair, gazing out the window at the stars twinkling in the clear night sky. She had been uncomfortable about that Russian child from the minute she first arrived. The amount of times she had overheard the Russian kid and her foster-sister gabbling away in Russian she had already lost count. The kid’s command of English was pretty good considering she had only been learning it for a little over a month, but even so she had a habit of breaking into some foreign language whenever she got excited. That gave Alice the creeps. She could be saying anything after all!

She knew the Russian brat was living with a good American family, and she could only hope that they would not be sullied by her poor Russian manners. It had only been a matter of time before something happened like today. As soon as she saw the two girls struggling together, and poor Becky with that black eye she had known it was down to that Russian child. Child indeed? Russian demon more like! Well, anyway at least the class would have two days’ freedom from her influence.

There came a knock at the door. She opened it cautiously and saw two handsome young men standing on her doormat. The dark haired man smiled enchantingly at her and inclined his head. His companion, a very pretty looking blond man with strikingly blue eyes held out his hand to her and spoke in a perfect English accent.

          “Good evening. My name is Charles Michael Keene, and I am a local law enforcement representative. This is Napoleon Solo. I’m certain you have heard of him.”

Alice blinked, searching her memory and then nodded.

          “I am sure that…er…one of my students is being fostered by a family with the name of Solo.”

Napoleon nodded.

          “Yes, my brother Winston and his wife Cecily. You may be familiar with their daughter? My niece Polly.”

          “Yes, yes, Polly May Solo. A delightful young lady. So to what do I owe this visit?”

Napoleon Solo looked to his companion, who stepped to one side. Alice saw Mister Keene nod encouragingly at someone whom up until this moment she had not noticed. It was the little Russian brat. Her face darkened, and she gestured briefly.

          “I suppose you had better step inside.”

Napoleon, Illya and Katiya stepped inside Alice Borrowdale’s home and sat on hard chairs in the kitchen. Alice found herself glaring at the child. She was immensely surprised when the child politely declined to sit down, and instead held out her hand.

          “Please, Miss Borrowdale, I am very sorry I was fighting today. I promise it will never happen again. Is…is Becky Summerfield all right?”

          “She has a very sore and painful black eye thanks to you. So, no. She is not all right. She will be in a few weeks.” Alice glanced up at the two men. “Is this why you brought her here tonight? To apologize to me? Because you are wasting your time. Exclusion is the only way to teach a disruptive pupil that her behaviour is out of order.”

Illya kept his face completely neutral. He was a consummate actor after all. He merely inclined his head slightly, and spoke, still in his perfect, clipped English accent.

          “You are probably correct. However, Miss Borrowdale, this child had no idea we were coming here tonight. And her apology of a moment ago was certainly not prompted by us in any way, shape or form. We certainly did not come here for that purpose.”

          “So why are you here?” Mister Keene’s eyes were so very blue, Alice felt she could drown in them. His voice was soft and gentle. Now he was smiling with those eyes. Hmmm. If only he would smile at her with his mouth as well. Mister Keene leaned forward earnestly in his seat.

          “Miss Borrowdale, do you, by any chance, know what Mister Solo does for a living?”

          “No.”

          “Do you know what Katiya’s father does for a living?”

          “No idea.”

          “Well, I will come to that presently, then. But first, you need to know that Mister Solo and this child’s father know each other very well. When this matter today came to his attention, Mister Solo spoke to me about it. I am an investigator of sorts, and because Mister Solo and Katiya’s father were certain that there was more to this story than you have been made aware of, I have been looking into it for them. I have discovered a few things that I believe you have a right to know immediately. Hence our visit.”

          “Very well, what?”

          “You are no doubt aware of young Katiya’s heritage?”

          “She’s Russian.”

The word came out almost as an expletive. Mister Keene smiled softly and shook his head.

          “A frequent mistake, but she was actually born in Kiev. That is in Ukraine, not in Russia. Katiya is Ukrainian.”

          “They are both Soviet Union. What difference does it make?”

          “Probably none at all. After all, you were born in Canada, weren’t you?”

          “I was born in Kalamazoo actually. That is in Michigan. Not Canada.”

Keene shrugged.

          “They are both in the Americas. What difference does it make?”

Alice tightened her jaw, but said nothing. Keene handed the woman a sheet of paper.

          “This is a statement, written out and signed by one of your students who witnessed the event that gave Becky Summerfield a black eye. Read it.”

Alice crumpled it up.

          “I don’t need to. I saw with my own eyes. That little tearaway did it.”

Katiya said nothing, but simply stood beside Napoleon, looking down at her feet. Keene took the paper back and opened it up and read it aloud.

          “I will read it for you if you will not. It says `My name is Karen Willis and I am thirteen and I was there when Becky Summerfield was fighting with her brother Joel behind the gym at the start of break. She pushed him and he hit her in the eye. My friends Jane and Liz were there and they will tell you the same.”

Illya glanced at his partner who reached into his pocket and handed the teacher a sheaf of papers.

          “These are similar and independent statements from Jane Hocock and Elizabeth Caldmore, both saying that Becky Summerfield’s brother gave her the black eye because she was trying to bully him.” Napoleon told her. “This one is from Joel Summerfield saying that his sister is…er…he uses a rude word here, and admits that he lost his temper with her in the end and he says `socked her one’. I think you must have seen the black eye and jumped to conclusions., miss.”

Alice shrugged.

          “Still makes little difference. That child was still fighting when she shouldn’t have been.”

She saw Mister Keene beckon to the little girl.

          “Miss Katiya, would you mind raising your jumper and showing your tummy to your teacher?”

The little girl obediently stood before Miss Borrowdale and raised her jumper up to her chin. Alice instinctively hissed at the purple bruises across the girl’s tummy. Keene looked her in the eye.

          “The girls in your class change for gym in the classroom I understand. Gym class was right before break-time. Did Katiya have those bruises on her tummy when she was changing for gym?”

Alice shook her head. No, that was certain. No bruises before gym.

          “So if Becky Summerfield was completely innocent in this fight, how does she come to have no bruises or hurts anywhere except for the black eye her brother gave her, whereas this child is black and blue all over? Which child was the aggressor here Miss Borrowdale?”

Alice Borrowdale narrowed her eyes and stared at Katiya.

          “Why did _you_ not tell me about this?”

Katiya shrugged and looked down. She went back to the two men. Napoleon Solo put his arm around her. Alice knew in her heart of hearts why the child had not told. Alice herself had refused to allow her to speak up for herself. The child had only been trying to defend herself to an angry teacher. And she had accused her of being rude and insolent.

To cover her sudden unexpected embarrassment, Alice folded her arms and sat back in her chair.

          “What I don’t get is, if that kid Becky picked on this child, why did she do it? What for?”

Katiya looked up at her papa. She was secretly impressed at how good he was at pretending to this teacher, but it meant she had to pretend for now that he was a stranger to her. How she longed to snuggle into him. He looked down at her and smiled.

          “Katiya, why don’t you tell Miss Borrowdale why Becky started to punch you in the playground?”

          “She said her daddy and her grandpa were killed in the wars against the Russians. She called me the daughter of a Russian murderer and said that my papa should be shot like a…like a…”

Suddenly the little girl dissolved into tears. Alice looked shocked. She saw the beautiful blond man bend down and pick up the little girl and hold her to him tenderly.

          “Sssssh, my little kotyonok” Illya glanced at Napoleon, and turned away. Napoleon knew that Illya was almost at his limit. He straightened up.

          “I hope we have helped you to see the truth of what happened today and why, Miss Borrowdale.”

She nodded contritely.

          “You have. I jumped to conclusions and I was wrong to do that. By the way Mister Solo…that word Mister Keene used on the child. What is that? Kotty…something?”

          “Kotyonok, Miss Borrowdale, it means kitten. It is a term of endearment in the Russian language.”

          “Russian!?”

Mister Keene turned, and his eyes flashed. Suddenly his eyes were no longer blue pools she could sink into. They were sharp, icy and furious. Suddenly she realized that she had Mister Keene all wrong. She glanced at Solo. Solo smiled slightly.

          “Here is where we introduce ourselves properly, Miss Borrowdale. My name is indeed Napoleon Solo and I am the Chief Enforcement Agent for the U.N.C.L.E. Mister Keene is not actually Mister Keene at all. He is also an enforcement Agent for UNCLE, and he is my partner. His name is Illya Nikovich Kuryakin and he is Katiya’s adoptive father; incidentally he is the only relation she has left in the entire world.”

Illya put Katiya back on her feet and drew himself up regally, and spoke as himself, in his own soft Russian accent.

          “Miss Alice Borrowdale, it is quite clear that when you see a disagreement between a Russian and an American, you will automatically side with your own countryman. That is natural. But Katiya is a _child_! She is an innocent. She has had a great number of terrible things she has had to face in her life, and she has not been at fault with any of them. How can you judge her, a seven-year old child based on something she has no control over? She cannot help where she was born, but she is doing her best to learn to fit in here. Your job is to do your best to help her learn all the things she needs to learn to become a productive member of your society. Surely any child has that right? You are welcome to hate _me_ if you wish. That is your right, but _don’t_ blame my daughter.”

Alice nodded slowly. She was not sure that her hatred was gone, but for the moment it was certainly stifled by the shame she felt at having allowed her prejudice to blind her.  Katiya’s extraordinary father astounded her further by his next actions. He removed his jacket, and then pulled his sweater over his head, revealing his bare torso. He stood up and turned slowly before her.

          “Before you decide where you stand, I think you should see this. Believe me it took Napoleon two hours to persuade me that you might benefit from seeing my scars.”

Alice stared, gobsmacked, at the dozens of vicious and nasty looking scars that covered this man’s back and chest. One or two of them looked fairly recent, too; red and sore looking. Illya turned back and pulled his sweater back on, covering his scars with dignity. He looked her in the eye once more.

          “Most of those scars I received whilst serving UNCLE, defending this country from those trying to destroy her.”

          “M.M.Most of them?”

          “Three of them I received from my own people, before I left the Soviet Union, and two of the more recent ones were gifts from your own countrymen who decided they did not like a Russian living in their city. What is your opinion, Miss Borrowdale?”

There was a long silence, and then Alice Borrowdale stood up and held out her hand to Katiya.

          “I think that you have taught me something tonight, Mister Kuryakin, Miss Katiya. Believe me, I appreciate that you took the time to show me your evidence in a calm manner without shouting and ranting at me. If you had come in here, shouting angrily and defending your daughter, I would have known that I had been right all along. Now I realise that I have become narrow-minded and bigoted.”

She shook Katiya’s hand gravely, and paused for a moment, then continued, a little haltingly;

          “I have decided that I will assign the class to work on a new project together. We will all do research to find out everything we can about the places that Katiya grew up, the history and customs of your people. Perhaps we can try and teach some of the children what you have just taught me. Katiya. Will you please forgive me for refusing to listen to you? Will you come back into school tomorrow?”

Illya smiled at her, with both his eyes and his mouth.

          “I think I would like to keep her with me, just for tomorrow. We have…er…someone else my partner wishes us to visit. Katiya will return to school the day after tomorrow. Good evening, Miss Borrowdale. Thank you for your time.”

 

The following morning, Illya plunged down into the depths of the building to work in his lab. Mister Waverly had been contacted last night by Napoleon Solo, appraising him of the affair at Katiya’s school, as well as the racist slurs he had overheard in the commissary, and the fact that Solo had a plan for dealing with the gossips. Waverly, once fully in the picture, heartily agreed, but made sure to emphasize that the child was not to be left alone in the building at any time. Either Solo or her papa must be in close proximity at all times. Solo agreed, and made his plans.

Because both Napoleon and Illya had spent the night in the Solo home in New Jersey, they were able to awaken the little girl early, and get her washed, dressed and breakfasted. Illya left for work first, hugging his daughter and promising he would see her at work in a little while. Once they had done what they needed to do, he would take her out to the park for an ice cream, provided no emergency came up. Katiya nodded happily.

A little later, Napoleon and Katiya piled into Napoleon’s car and they drove to HQ and parked as Napoleon usually did, in the street outside DelFloria’s. He took the child by the hand and led her down the steps and into the shop. Del Floria smiled and nodded at the child. He remembered her well from her visit with her great uncle Dimitri and a Russian UNCLE agent just over month ago*. He smiled as Napoleon led her into the changing room and through the doorway into reception.

The receptionist Laura looked up in surprise at the sight of the CEA hand in hand with a child. A very pretty child with curly blond hair and merry brown eyes, dressed in blue jeans, white socks, pink trainers and a pink fleece jacket over a white blouse. Her hair was tied in a blue ribbon. She smiled and handed Napoleon a visitor’s badge for the child.

          “Who’s this?” Laura asked, smiling at the child.

          “This is Katiya.”

          “I am Katiya Kuryakin!” Katiya put in indignantly. Laura stared at Napoleon in surprise, then back at the child.

          “Kuryakin? You must be a relation of Illya’s then?”

          “He’s my papa!” the child declared with obvious pride. “Uncle Napoleon, can I get to see my papa now?”

          “He’ll meet us in the commissary in a little while. Come along now. See you later Laura.”

The two left, leaving Laura stunned. Illya Kuryakin was a dad? It was generally known that he had adopted his niece, but being a section two agent, it was also known that he was not permitted to take care of her himself. Everyone had therefore taken it for granted that it had been an arrangement of convenience more than anything else. No one could really imagine the chilly Russian as a father. Katiya though, gave the appearance of a child who adored her father. She picked up her phone and dialed a number.

In the commissary, Napoleon and Katiya entered holding hands tightly. She remembered being here before, but papa had been sick then, and not all of these people had been here. Napoleon led her to a table where several women had been talking animatedly. They looked up.

          “Ladies.” Napoleon looked around the group with his best charming smile.

          “I wonder if we could join you? I would like to introduce you to my brother Winston’s foster-daughter. This is Katiya. Katiya, what would you like to eat and drink?”

          “Ginger ale please Uncle Napoleon, egg sandwich and can I have some ice cream?”

He twinkled at her.

          “Sounds perfect. Coming right up. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He left the table and wandered over to the counter, leaving Katiya alone with the girls from the file room.

          “So why are you here today Katiya?” Megan Merryweather asked her. Katiya shrugged and put her head slightly to one side in a way that put them all in mind of someone else.

          “I got hurt at school yesterday and my papa was really scared for me, so he wants me close today so he can see that I am all right.”

June Saulter looked concerned.

          “You got hurt? You poor thing, what happened?”

          “Oh another girl starting beating on me. I got some bruises on my tummy.”

          “That’s awful!” the four women were aghast.

          “Do you know why she did that to you? Was she just being a bully?”

Katiya looked sad, and also slightly angry too.

          “She doesn’t like me because I am not American. She said some horrible things should happen to my papa!”

Katiya looked at them and her lower lip protruded slightly.

          “She doesn’t even know my papa. My papa went all over Russia and all over Ukraine and even made himself really sick trying to find me and keep me safe. He’s pretty and he’s funny and he teaches me the balalaika and he’s really wonderful. There he is!”

The women watched the little girl’s face light up like a light-bulb as the man they had been describing yesterday as a Russian icicle came into the room.

They watched opened mouthed as Katiya leaped up from her chair so fast that it fell over with a clatter. They saw Illya’s attention caught by the noise and a broad smile spread over his face as the little girl ran as fast as she could into his arms. He swung her up in the air and around in a circle, completely oblivious of the staring eyes around him. Katiya wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Illya laughed and kissed her back, then carried her over to join Napoleon who was still collecting food for lunch.

Watching them go, Megan Merryweather glanced at her companions and raised her eyebrows.

          “Remember what we were saying about him yesterday? Look at him with that little girl. Kids see through grown-ups like a pane of glass. If Illya really was the way we thought he was, she would never go to him like that. She thinks the world of him. Look at her!”

Napoleon had collected three trays of food and was relaying them, with difficulty to a nearby table, where his partner and Katiya were sitting. The women noticed the adoring way that Katiya stared at her papa. Clearly they had been guilty of grossly misreading the Russian. Just because he presented a grim façade to the world, did not mean that he was incapable of human feelings. They owed him a big apology.

That evening, as they left through reception, they found the CEA waiting for them.

          “So ladies, I take it you had the opportunity to observe my partner, and the way he tortured his poor neglected adoptive daughter half to death with his icy stares?”

Megan glanced at her colleagues and nodded shamefaced.

          “You brought the child in on purpose didn’t you sir?”

          “Yes.”

          “Mister Solo, I am sorry you felt it was necessary. We were all very wrong about your partner, and I am ashamed. Katiya thinks the world of her papa, that is obvious, and I realize now that when Mister Kuryakin is being cold and icy, he’s simply doing his job.”

Solo nodded.

          “He is a professional, Miss Merryweather. Like you should be. I have reported what I overheard of your conversation yesterday to Mister Waverly. This visit today has been in the nature of a wake-up call, I hope, to make you all realise where you were all heading if you don’t stop the stupid gossiping. Neither Mister Waverly or I will stand for it. There will be no further action taken _this_ time. If either of us ever detect even a _hint_ of this kind of attitude happening again towards Mister Kuryakin or anyone else, there will be instant consequences. Is that clear?”

          “Yes sir.”

Napoleon refrained from smiling at them, but stood grimly watching them leave. He was still very angry with them for what they had been saying yesterday, but they appeared to have learned a valuable lesson this time. He sincerely hoped that they would remember it. He returned to his office and found Illya and April Dancer doing an impromptu tap dance to entertain Katiya. She was laughing and holding her stomach, tears in her eyes. Mark looked up from his seat, perched atop the filing cabinet out of the way.

          “Hi there, boss. The gaggle gang gone now are they?”

Napoleon nodded.

          “I signed on to fight enemies like THRUSH! Not gossipy women, bigoted teachers or bullying children.”

At that moment, Katiya looked up and waved at Napoleon.

          “Uncle Napoleon, Becky Summerfield hurt me yesterday. Will she still be trying to hurt me when she is grown up?”

The four agents stared at each other. Illya picked up his daughter and hugged her close.

          “That is what it comes down to Napoleon. We usually fight the big battles. Today we fought some of the little battles to stop them getting big. I’d say we did a good day’s work. And all thanks to Katiya!”


End file.
